Purveyors of fine poetry since 2003.

Plummer’s Hollow by sled

It’s cold. Nothing to do but pull on a thick balaclava, grab the sled, and go steaming up the hill to the top of what we call the amphitheatre, in the field opposite the main house. We have never actually staged anything there, by the way — it’s a little too boggy at the bottom where a stage would go. The only real drama occurs when the feral cat tangles with the opossum in the compost heap above the barn… or when a 42-year-old sledder comes careening down the path, camcorder in one hand.

It’s funny that sledding has such a stigma as being only for children. I’ve been sledding for most of the past 40 winters, at least 30 of them with the same sled, and I’m not about to switch to skiing or snowboarding, which I suspect are seen as adult sports primarily because they require lots of expensive gear. For one thing, I have a terrible sense of balance. Also, I wear glasses: when a friend lent me a pair of cross-country skis for a couple of years, I found myself unable to enjoy them because my glasses kept steaming up and freezing. I decided I prefer slow walking to running/gliding. And the great thing about sledding, after the hurtling, bone-rattling descent, is the peaceful walk back. Ravens flush from the top of a hemlock, filling the hollow with their harsh cries. The snow squeaks — such a satisfying sound — under my boots.

Long after I get back,
my frozen breath is still dripping
from my beard.

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Dave Bonta (bio) crowd-sources his problems by following his gut, which he shares with 100 trillion of his closest microbial friends — a close-knit, symbiotic community comprising several thousand species of bacteria, fungi, and protozoa. In a similarly collaborative fashion, all of Dave’s writing is available for reuse and creative remix under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 United States License. For attribution in printed material, his name (Dave Bonta) will suffice, but for web use, please link back to the original. Contact him for permission to waive the “share alike” provision (e.g. for use in a conventionally copyrighted work).

14 Comments

My chemistry students start the year by contrasting physical change vs. chemical change. I think they’re going to get a quiz question next time: “Is ice melting from Dave’s beard: physical or chemical change?”

I love the concept of exhaled water being the ‘smoke’ from our food combustion.
O2 + C6H12O6 –> H2O + CO2.
And I love the thought that the hydrogen atoms in the original food may have come from an ancient aquifer that resurfaced as corn irrigation, spent a summer in an ear of grain, and then spent a year or so in a mammal before being eaten by we sledders.

I am also envious of the long-term stability represented by use of a single sled over multiple decades.

Sounds like great fun, especially when you have your very own hill! Our young grandkids had fun in our sloping backyard when we had all that snow in December, when usually we’d have to drive up to the mountain and face crowded slopes. I lost interest in sledding when I hurt my tailbone badly on a rough patch.

Cross-county skiing was fun and not too expensive back when we lived in gentle hilly country, but nowadays it’s too terrifying and challenging for me on the mountains around here.

Kia ora Dave,
That has to be the best sled run ever! And what an amazing looking sled. You had me pining for Wisconsin as we don’t get much sledding our way here in New Zealand, but man that reminded me of where I come from. The last time I used a sled was 1996 when I was home at Christmas and I still recall that day. Cheers!
Rangimarie,
Robb

Yay sledding! I’ve been skiing and snowboarding once each, and while perhaps with more dedication they would become fun for me, sledding was fun the first time and just gets better. We use little plastic Swiss Bobs – just the right weight and size to hike up and and then sled down a mountain. Don’t know if they’ll last 30 years, though.

Wow, Dave. I smiled all the way through this, too. As I’ve always said, “It’s never too late to have a happy childhood!” Buck looked at it and said, “You know, that boy still has a lot of puppy in him.” (Uh, in case you can’t tell, that’s HIGH praise. . .) Nifty video.

Pretty cool… I just went to visit some snow up in Connecticut, but it was too cold to spend much time outside, even for the kids.

I suspect the reason why most adults give up on sledding is less about “stigma” than durability — between the square-cube law and other details (q.v. “God loves fools, children, and drunkards”), children can take a crash that would seriously hurt an adult. (On the flip side, adults are more cautious when they do go sledding! q.v. Calvin and Hobbes….)

That’s a long run! I was wondering how long you were going to keep going; that last thirty seconds looked challenging. Going off-road didn’t look like too much fun.

I had a Radio Flyer for years — a good, short one that got bumped into kindling eventually. My old place at college had a fill wall that afforded a four-foot jump. What a great run that was! Currently, we have an okay hill, but we haven’t had any real snow this year. I love sledding, even at 51. I wouldn’t dream of stopping.

Whoa! That’s one great sledding run!
What a wonderful trip down the mountain.
When I was young,
we had a couple of nice toboggans
and a big aluminum flying saucer
with canvas strap handles.
The saucer was great fun.
I liked how it would spin around backwards
and then you would be airborne for a
second or two before zooming on
down the hills.
Now, if it would snow here this winter,
I can tell you that from my place
up here on the mountain,
I could probably sled all the way
down to Sierra Vista.
It’s downhill all the way!